Mr Darcy

I remembered where I was. The last week had been spent on a medical
conference - an update on the latest ERCP findings and I had been invited
as a guest speaker. On the last day, I found myself roaming the streets
of London. I remember going into a club - and evidently drinking a little
too much, judging by the kickboxing duo knocking out my eyeballs.
Recalling the last time I went on a binge, I wondered what had kicked off
this irresponsible round. Being irresponsible, and taking one drink too
many, certainly wasn't something that I often indulged in.

It was barely morning in London and the morning light was streaming
through the large windows of my hotel room. Even that faint light caused
me to wince as I slowly stretched and rose from the bed. There had been
some thoughts of checking out some of the bookstores on Charing Cross but
I doubted that I could stand it without a thick, heavenly cup of coffee
first.

"Good morning, doc."

The sound of a man's voice beside me had my heart skipping a beat, a low,
seductive baritone with a hint of lazy laughter that rang a tinny bell of
familiarity in depths of my fugue state mind. It took a moment for my
brain to digest the novel notion that there was someone in bed with me.
The fact that it was a man wasn't a real problem considering the fact
that I was a raving homosexual with raging adolescent needs, although I
was already in my early thirties. Until recently however, I had never
acted on those baser urges and maintained myself on a strict diet of
hard, obsessive work which had gotten me to the top of my career. Of
course I still had the occasional slip-ups, like the arrival of the hunky
UPS man every other week giving rise to lurid fantasies that necessitated
a quick escape to the relative privacy of my office.

Negotiating my head to tilt in the direction of that voice, I carefully
opened my eyes. It was something that I had never expected and the sight
had my heart beating madly in my chest. A startling vision of masculine
beauty greeted me, blue eyes, black hair, stubbled jaw, model-handsome
looks. Under my scrutiny, one thickly lashed blue eye winked playfully at
me.

My reaction was almost instinctive. Letting out a squeal - a hopefully
manful sounding one, I leapt off the bed, dragging the duvet along with
me. Compared to the shock at finding a man in my bed, the sudden
disorienting dizziness that accompanied my escape barely made a dent. For
the past week, I'd remained solitary so how the hell had I managed to
find a roommate? A quick flash of murder and robbery flashed through my
mind but I dismissed it. It took a few seconds before I could manage a
reasonably coherent answer as monosyllables were all I could come out
with. "W-Who the hell are you? What are you doing here?"

Wincing under the quick barrage of accusations, he blinked slowly in
confusion. "Mark."

That certainly didn't help clear things up for me. Even as I racked my
fogged-up brain for his identity, flipping madly through the neverending
galleries of gorgeous, perfectly tanned gay porn stars that I kept hidden
in my laptop, all that came to my mind Mark who? As stunningly handsome
as he was, I'd certainly remember him. "How did you get in here?"

Waking up to a nervous breakdown was certainly getting the sleeping hunk
up earlier than he'd expected. Rubbing his free hand over his eyes, Mark
grinned lazily, flashing a row of even, brilliantly white teeth. "A
little too late to ask that, isn't it?"

"A little too late for what?" The timbre of his deep voice stirred
something in me, something that brought to mind a memory that I simply
couldn't catch hold of. I closed my eyes as a montage of wild, erotic
images flashed MTV-like across my brain. "What did you do? Or more to the
point, what did I do?"

He pulled his head back slightly in stunned surprise, looking at me as if
I'd just dropped from another planet. "Don't you remember.. oh, shit, you
were pissed drunk last night and you don't remember."

"Remember what?" I demanded in a slightly raised tone and then winced
painfully as my head spun. As Mark sat up in the bed in concern, my eyes
widened in shock as the sheets shifted revealing a naked hip. "Oh my God,
you're naked!"

"So are you, sweetheart," he pointed out helpfully.

The information froze me to the spot as I slowly cast a glance around the
bedroom, finally taking in the after effects of last night's drunken
binge. Judging by the ruins, it was painfully obvious what had happened
last night. My shirt hung forlornly from the lamp and my pants had been
shed by the bathroom. A pair of boxer briefs, not mine, lay crumpled
beneath the sofa. The suggestive flash from the shiny foil wrapping on
the desk had me groaning in disgust.

"And there's no need to be shy, I've seen you in the altogether."
Unconcerned with the fact that he was naked, he drew his legs up and
rested his elbows on his knees. The quick shift and flex of the sculpted
muscles on his taut, powerful torso had my libido roaring to life. The
golden-smooth, practically hairless chest was sculpted and powerful, with
slab-like pecs capped with dime-sized nipples the shape of dark candy
kisses that looked succulent enough to make my mouth water. Sensing my
scrutiny, he cocked his handsome head to the side and aimed a sly grin my
way. "And by the way, you look hot."

The palpable heat in his brilliant blue gaze stripped me. Taking a
nervous step back, I clutched the duvet to my chest like a terrified
Victorian virgin and stammered out a reply. "Why... naked... why.."

Being left bare naked except for a few strategically placed pillows
certainly didn't embarass him although I had to admit he obviously had
nothing to hide. Hard to be painfully shy when one had 6-foot-3 inches
and 210 lbs of rock solid, sculpted muscles and sinew for a body. The
delicate play of the tight, corded muscles beneath his strong arms and
pecs as he shifted on the bed had the blood pumping straight to my groin.
Guessing the effect he had on me, Mark or whoever he was raised a dark
brow. "I don't know about you but I usually take off my clothes to have
sex. But if you've got a better way, I certainly wouldn't mind trying."

"You? Me?" Flustered, this time my voice squeaked.

"Yeah." He lifted those broad shoulders in a careless shrug.
"Incidentally, those words were actually joined together last night. In
more than a dozen ways I might add."

"Oh my God. I cannot believe it."

"Believe it, sweetheart." The man was finding it amusing obviously - and
really got into it. Rubbing the back of his hand over his stubbled jaw,
he chuckled. "Actually, you picked me up."

"I?" Still disbelieving, I stubbornly closed my eyes. It was only
slightly more than a year that I'd admitted to myself that I was a raving
homo and here I was, with what I would have termed a one-night-stand. No
one who knew the quiet, conservative doctor who worked endless hours
could imagine me picking up tricks in Soho. Even with the evidence lying
in front of me, I found it hard to believe myself. "I must be dreaming."

His laughter was deep and appreciative. "Feel the thick cum sticking on
your thighs? That's mine, not yours."

Acknowledging the truth of what he said, my eyes widened and I shifted
uneasily. Crude comment naturally but still the truth. It amazed me that
I'd had the balls to pick this guy up. Not only was he stunningly
gorgeous in the flesh, there was a certain raw charisma and sexuality
that exuded in waves from him and I was certain that he drew everyone's
attention wherever he went. Usually hot guys with such stellar looks left
me tongue-tied and foolish, leaving me speechless as I stared dumbly at
their glorious beauty. They didn't leave me with cum trails sticking on
my skin.

Furthermore, there was something vaguely dangerous about him, a certain
something wildly intense around his eyes that spelled danger. Coupled
with the battered leather jacket and dirty jeans thrown on the chair, he
was the epitome of the bad boy, the kind of man I usually steered clear
of. Sure, rough trade bad boys sent my heart thumping but I knew better
than to play with fire of that kind.

A quick grin briefly crossed his lips. "For such a smooth talker last
night, you seem to have lost your tongue."

It still boggled my mind that such a man had been persuaded to return to
my hotel room with me. An unwelcome thought came to me as I came to
realization that such good looks certainly didn't come free. Smiling
nervously, I stuttered, "A-are you a .. hustler? Am I supposed to pay
you?"

The accusation earned a quick bark of laughter from him. "That's the
first time I've been accused of that but trust me, you wouldn't be able
to afford me, River."

Tracing the line of his spectacular physique down his trim waist to the
magnificent posterior with my hungry gaze, I had no choice but to agree.
Succulent Grade A prime beef, that was Mark what-sis-name and it was true
that I certainly couldn't afford to buy his time.

Gesturing to me with his hand, he dipped his dark head in a nod. "What
are you doing standing all the way there? Trust me, I don't bite."
Pausing for a moment in thought, he added with an impish smile, "Although
you did, by the way."

A memory flash of a hard, well-muscled shoulder came to mind, the sharp
red imprint of my teeth, and I shook my head to dispel the thought. "What
exactly did I say last night?"

"Three lines, sweetheart." With a half-grin, he held up three fingers in
emphasis. Strong, elegant hands with nicely manicured nails, hands better
suited to the artist or musician that contrasted powerfully with the
dirty stubble, the forearms pakced with muscle and scuffed jeans.

"Three lines? That got you into bed?" The infectious grin on his dark,
tanned face had me grinning in response and I could feel the hysterical
bubble of laughter rising. Time and again, my friends would warn me that
my wicked sense of humour would be my inevitable downfall and I figured
they were right. Head soaked in alcohol, in bed with a stranger and I
felt like laughing hysterically. "Were you drunk?"

"Motherfucker." He looked almost insulted. "After a pint? I should think
not."

The slight slip of his rough brogue into something that hinted of
upper-class posh went passed me as I tried to assimilate the information
he was giving me. "Oh My God."

"That sounds familiar." His blue eyes narrowed into heated slits as he
flashed another wicked grin. "Yeah, I believe you said that last night
too."

The implication of what he said had me colouring up to my ears. "What
exactly did I say?"

Not only was he tanned and gorgeous, it irritated me to see that he was
so perfectly chipper in the morning. Shiny, wide-awake grin, brilliantly
blue eyes, fresh, glowing skin. In perfect contrast, waking up early in
the morning had always been a chore for me, even with the help of java.
In combination with my overdose of alcohol last night, I looked like an
unmade bed, my head felt like it was wrapped in wool while the man in my
bed had the temerity to look as fresh as a daisy.

"First you told me I was the best-looking bloke in the bar."

That was an easy one. Chances were high that he'd be the best-looking man
in most places. "I bet you were."

"Thanks," Mark replied with a playful grin. "It wasn't the first time
someone tried that line on me, I've been hit on before, but you were
different."

Different? With his breathtaking looks, the man must have been hit on
more times than I could possibly imagine. What could a patent amateur
like me have to offer that dozens of handsome tricks and barhoppers
couldn't? At my best, I would be described as average with average looks.
Sure, I worked out and kept my body tight but it was nothing compared to
some of the droolsome hunks I'd seen, and definitely nothing in
comparison to Mark. "Different? You've got to be kidding. How so?"

Recalling the memory, he laughed. "Well, the way your tongue suddenly
invaded my mouth was different."

That did surprise me since it had been a long time since I'd dated any
man, and even longer since I'd stuck my tongue down any man's throat.
Replacing my nonexistent social life with piles of work had managed to
fill the gap but it still left me wanting more. A night in with my
five-fingered date was satisfactory at most times but it couldn't replace
a warm, heavy body beside me in bed with hot hands and an even hotter
dick.

Cautiously, I made my reply. "Wait, my tongue was in your mouth."

"Your hand was in my pants too," he informed me helpfully.

Try as I could, I couldn't help my eyes darting down to what he kept
hidden beneath the sheets. It didn't show all that much but from the tent
at his crotch, there seemed to be something substantial growing down
there. It actually didn't at all surprise me that someone would want to
stick their hands in his pants to check out that impressive bulge. Moving
my gaze up to meet his, I encountered his knowing smile and a suggestive
wink that had me backing up a step. "My God, how much did I drink?"

"Enough," he admitted begrudgingly. "I believe you were downing pints
like it was the last day on earth. I was watching so I know."

His words caused me to stare at him. He was watching me that night?

Losing his train of thought, Mark muttered softly, "Now, where was I? Oh
yeah, then you asked me where I was going that night."

"Yeah?" The man was clearly enjoying himself with my predicament and I
started to smile despite myself. WIth the dull throb in my head, it was
all I could do. "And what did you say?"

Keeping his intent gaze on mine, Mark chuckled softly as he ran a hand
through his dark hair, smoothing down the tousled curls. I'd always
envied guys with those glossy black curls that seemed to glow with a life
of their own while I was stuck with straight hair. "I think I told you I
was going home which was the truth since I had some work to do that night
but you weren't having any of that. Then you corrected me by saying that
I was going to fuck you that night."

"I said that," I muttered disbelievingly, shaking my head all the while.
Those brazen words seemed to have come out from some alien who had
possessed me.

"Yes."

"And you fell for that?"

"Sure I did." As he turned, the sheets fell to reveal even more of his
naked torso, falling down to his lean hips and I couldn't help ogling
him. Michaelangelo couldn't have found a better David, this man was a
fine piece of work.

"That was the look that got you into trouble in the first place." There
was a twinkle in his blue eyes again as he reached out to tug my hand.
Unresisting, I let myself be pulled closer to the bed but kept my other
hand clutching the duvet to myself. In an inebriated state, it was
obviously easy shedding all my clothes in front of Mr Perfect Body but in
the light of day, there was just no way in hell. Who the hell would drop
their trou in the face of such perfection?

"I cannot believe I did all that. Pick guys up in bars? I can't even get
the guts up to talk to the hunky UPS guy!" I protested firmly. And
speaking of the hunky blond, even that stud paled in comparison to Mark.
As I tugged my hand away, Mark held on tight and we had a short tug of
war before he finally relented and released me.

"Trust me, you had plenty of witnesses in the bar - watching you feel me
up." With a wicked grin and the devil in his blue eyes, he added in way
of a compliment. "Great technique by the way. Novel."

"Oh My God." Gesturing from him to me, I stammered again. The implication
was obvious but I had to confirm the fact. "We had sex?"

He chuckled. "Isn't that a foregone conclusion? And in many different
ways. You even made me blush a few times."

"Me?" What he was telling me sounded like someone totally divorced from
the person I was. Getting drunk, picking up some handsome stranger in a
bar, having anonymous sex in a hotel room. I couldn't even pay the water
bill a day late. Even my trip abroad was neatly planned out on a
notebook, cross-referenced for everything I could possibly need, every
emergency that could happen. Obviously I hadn't counted on anything like
this remotely happening.

Wrapping the duvet around like a sarong, I gingerly seated myself at the
foot of the bed, as far away as possible from him. From what I'd gathered
from the night before, I obviously didn't have any control when it came
to him. The safe position I took only had Mark giving me a look of frank
amusement.

"Yeah. Let me tell you what else we did." Leaning over to me, he
whispered into my ear a position that stunned me.

The palpable heat of his big body surprised me almost as much as what
he'd just suggested. The heat, and his musky scent, redolent of the night
before, had my glands humming even without the explicit image he had just
put into my head. "I-I can't do that. Only Russian gymnasts and..
flexible guys with no spines can do that."

Evidently the astonishment on my face was telling enough that he let out
a laugh. "Well, I don't know what came over you last night but you sure
managed it. Surprised the hell out of me, that's for sure."

"Are you kidding me?"

The disbelief in my voice wasn't exactly a deterrent and he only lifted
his dark brows in challenge. "You want a repeat? I don't know if I can do
it again but I certainly wouldn't mind another go at it."

Lifting my hands to my eyes, I shaded them. If I looked up, no doubt I'd
see a pair of laughing blue eyes again. "You find all this terribly
funny, don't you?"

Finally taking pity on me, he let out a manful sigh. "River, I don't know
about you but I had an amazing night. I had a man who gave me some
incredible sex and an interesting chat afterward. A pity you don't
remember it but we can always recap later." Giving me a flash of a smile,
he let out a barely repressed yawn and slowly eased out of bed. "Now, I
need a shower."

"That's it?" I sputtered out. As he got out of the bed, it didn't help
that he'd just flashed me what had to be the most perfect ass known to
man. Hard, perfectly round mounds of steel with what looked to be silky
smooth, unblemished skin and I had the urge to reach down and cup them in
my hands, wondering whether they'd make a perfect fit. Although I tried
to keep my gaze strictly at neck level, it was difficult not to give in
to the impulse to look again.

The look in his eyes left me in no doubt that he knew what I was thinking
but although his lips did curve up in somehing resembling a smirk, he
thankfully made no comment. However as he paused before the bathroom
door, Mark aimed a hot blue stare at me. "Stop looking, doc, unless you
want the recap now."

"I got totally drunk in a foreign city and wake up without a memory of
last night with a man I know nothing about." As my voice grew higher, I
noted my growing hysteria and the fact that I was just this close from
bursting into giggles. There was nothing remotely funny about my
situation and yet I found myself close to cracking up. It certainly made
me wonder what my old psych professor would say about this.

"You know my name," he pointed out helpfully.

"That's all."

His voice lowered to a low, intimate growl. "Well, you know me in the
most intimate, biblical sense."

From the relative safety of my bed, I eyed him carefully. "I would punch
that smirk off your face if I weren't smaller than you - and feeling
nauseous."

"I should have known you'd wake up fighting, especially after you'd
warned me about that."

"Warned you?" My eyes goggled at him. "What the hell..."

"Yeah, you told me you'd wake up in a pissed mood, angry at yourself. My
rambunctious little fighter." Still looking as pleased with himself as
the cat that caught the canary, he narrowed his glance at me, his smile
full of wicked glee. "Remember the chat I mentioned? We talked in between
bouts. I learned a few interesting things about you."

Alcohol was a deadly combination for me and I recalled spilling
everything about myself one drunken night during high school and I never
repeated that mistake. My classmates still talked about the night Chen
spilled the beans. Till now. The number of secrets I could have revealed,
the amount of crap I could have babbled had me sinking back into the bed
and I wondered whether I could bury myself back in another bottle. "Oh,
shit."

"Yeah, you talked a lot. Didn't stop me liking you though, lil bundle of
neuroses."

"Shut up."


Hiding in the safety of the bathroom, I readjusted the towel I'd wrapped
around my waist and stared at myself in the mirror. Apart from the
bloodshot eyes, the mussed up black hair that stood up on end, I seemed
to be the same man. But if what Mark had said was the truth, I had just
had sex with a man. A gorgeous, sexy man at that. The more I repeated the
thought in my mind, I started grinning like a fool. I just had sex.

The door swung open and I turned around staring. "What the hell are you
doing?"

It was amazing what a plain white tee and jeans could do for a man like
that. Plain and tight, they hugged the contours of his muscular,
drool-inducing physique, showing it off to perfection and I could see why
I'd recklessly stuck my tongue down his throat without thinking. Mr 'I'm
Mark' looked as sinful as Chocolate Decadence and damned if he didn't
know that. Reading the admiration in my eyes, he only grinned. "Please
don't stand on ceremony. I'm just leaving."

"Not a problem," I replied, as nonchalant as I could with only a white
towel to hide my modesty. After all, it was only a drunken
one-night-stand and I understood perfectly. Sure the thought did sting a
little but hey, he was a gorgeous guy, hell there must be tons of guys
out there he hadn't slept with. With that fantastic chest and those perky
tits, he must have guys coming out of the closet everywhere to nibble on
them.

"You're staring at my chest again. I am more than just nice pecs. Eyes
up, doc." Nudging my chin up with his fingers, he forced me to meet his
coolly amused gaze. "I doubt you'll be fully conscious for another few
hours and I need to freshen up so... tea at 4? I'll be waiting."

I was all prepared for a nice walking-out speech but not for this.
"What?"

"Isn't it obvious?" From my chin, his hand streaked up my cheek and he
smiled when I shivered in response. "Even while you were getting all
boozed up, I kept my eye on you. Neat lil guy in a spiffy suit drinking
like a sailor on leave. And then you just got off that stool, headed for
me and stuck your hands down my pants... what the hell, I like you."

"You like that?" He was plainly one fruit short of a bunch. Liking a sex
maniac who got drunk and attacked him in public?

Mark only shrugged and shoved his own hands into his pockets, his dark
eyes lit with amusement. "Yeah."

"You're a sick man but I'm still drunk enough to like that. Tea?"

"You wanted scones, I'll give you scones."

Somewhere in the deep recesses of my brain, I recalled mentioning
something like that. It seemed so quintessentially British. Scones and
cream. My brow furrowed. "What exactly did I say last night?"

"Lots," he added with a secret smile. "You want to know more, we'll talk
at tea. Here's my card."

Slipping a card out of his pants, he handed it to me and I held it
blindly. "We're going for scones?"

"And tea. Don't make me wait."

Giving me an upchuck on my chin, he turned around and was gone. Mouth
agape, I kept my gaze on his retreating back and then back down at the
card. What I saw there made me reassess what I knew of the man.
Gilt-edged, classy and excessively formal, and totally unlike the
rough-edged man who'd just walked out my door. The name on the card
stunned me even more. Lord Marcus Fitzwilliam Darcy.